Don't Drink the Neutralizer
by Maria Rene
Summary: "This is neutralizer.  Whatever you do, don't drink it.  It makes you... see things."  Rated T for future chapters in which we dredge up abuse memories in a not-descriptive manner. Finally complete!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer, spoilers, etc: Not mine. Artie is on my Hanukkah wish list, though, if anybody needed a shopping idea. Spoilers for Vendetta.

A/N: I was intending not to post this until it was complete, but it's my birthday, so I'm handing out party favors. This one's for MagellinaFluffQueen, who gave me this challenge a couple months back. This was my first time ever writing based on somebody else's prompts (seriously, I even refused to do it for teachers). The challenge was to write a story based on the quote, "This is neutralizer. Don't ask me how it works, because I have no idea. Oh, and don't ingest it, it'll make you see... things." I had to modify the quote slightly to make it work within the dialogue, but it's in there, yay! Yep, it's a story that starts with a flashback. Much as I despise the concept in my TV shows, it really was the best way to make the writing prompt work in my brain.

* * *

"Pete, why don't you give _Agent Wells_ a quick summary of the rules around here?" Artie asked. He'd spent the better part of a week being enraged, but Leena had talked him into at least trying to accept reality, since anger wasn't having any effect on the powers that be, other than pissing them off.

"What?" Pete asked, whirling around in shock. "Why me? It's not like she's a total newbie, and anyway Myka's the one who's read the manual!" Artie let a small smile come to the normally stoic surface.

"Exactly why you're the one for the job. Myka would take all month, and you have maybe, 15, 20 minutes of downtime in which to impart the most useful bits of knowledge you've picked up the hard way." He grinned as he made his way back upstairs to read for a little while, letting Pete's animated words float over him, only touching him now and then.

"Well... this is neutralizer. Don't ask me how it works, because I have no idea," he heard Pete say. "Though... I suppose you probably already knew that much. Anyway, there's usually a canister or two under Claudia's desk. Don't knock them over, and whatever you do, don't drink it. It makes you... see things." Artie chuckled to himself as his memory suddenly whisked him back to the day, when Pete learned that little detail about life in the warehouse...

* * *

Artie rolled his eyes as he rushed down the stairs. Sure, he knew Pete would be annoyed with him, but the kid had practically asked for it. His half-baked idea to put dye in Myka's bubble bath might have been funny if he'd been sure of which bottle was which. But apparently all women's bath products look alike to Pete, and he'd ended up tinting Leena's pricey facial cleanser with his green dye – green dye to which, it turned out, Leena was fairly allergic. The poor dear wasn't badly hurt, and she did try to be in good spirits. It was an accident, after all, and it would have been just a little amusing if it hadn't raised red welt-like hives everywhere it touched Leena's skin. But she had refused to leave the house for three days, until the marks began to subside. Artie had put Pete to work on this glorious Saturday morning, doing the tedious housekeeping tasks in the office while the girls went into town for a movie since Leena finally felt up to venturing into public again.

So he wasn't terribly surprised to find Pete slamming around the office in frustration. Artie even accepted it, at least in that he wasn't going to tell the younger man to calm down. Pete had no problem, in principle, with accepting the consequences of his actions; it was probably doing good things for the guilt that he'd been carrying ever since he realized what he'd done. But Pete was still frustrated at missing the movie, and losing his day off for the week, especially when the last of the snow had finally, this week, melted and given way to crisp spring days. But Artie cringed just the same, wondering if the office would survive the younger man who was moving angrily about the room. Artie immediately took note of a canister of neutralizer sitting on the corner of Claudia's desk, and in that sudden way that everybody sometimes experiences, he foresaw what Pete was about to do to it.

"Pete, stop!" Artie shouted as he leaped over the last couple stairs to the office floor, shouting just a little too loudly apparently, since it caused Pete to startle and spin around. Artie cringed as he watched Pete's hand nudge the canister that last little bit to tip it over. He could see it coming, but there was just no way to stop it. Purple goo pooled all over Claudia's desk, dripping onto the floor, making a huge mess of the files Artie had left there for the teen to enter into the computerized database on Monday. Pete, to his credit, grabbed the electronics and shuffled them off onto Artie's nearby work surface before they got wet, but Artie could already tell the files would have to be peeled apart and left to dry before Claudia could begin putting the data into the system. Pete nearly screamed in frustration when he saw the mess.

"It's all right," Artie said quickly, not his usual reaction, but he knew that guilt and frustration had really done a number on the younger man over the past few days. And anyhow, nobody else was around to witness him being uncharacteristically nice. He jumped into action, grabbing an old towel out of a file cabinet drawer. The towel had, once upon a time, been there for a reason but Artie could no longer remember what that reason might have been. Now, its purpose was to stand ready in case of coffee spills... or neutralizer spills, he thought as he began to mop up the mess. "Here," he said to Pete, handing him a spool of twine that had also been in the drawer. "Make a clothesline out of this, grab some paper clips, and start hanging these files up to dry before the pages all get stuck."

"But, Artie, won't they drip all over–"

"More important things right now, Pete. We can clean the floor, but those are old files. We don't have a computer copy yet; that's what they were on Claudia's desk for."

"Oh geez, Artie, I'm sorry, I... hang up the files, got it." Artie nodded to himself, satisfied, as he watched the younger man tie off the twine to a pipe near the door, before he turned back to his own cleaning. Once Claudia's desk was clean, and the papers were hung to dry, he allowed himself to really look around the room. It was actually pretty clean, other than the spill. He smiled at that.

"You know, besides the, the neutralizer, the office actually looks good," he said, getting the words out just as he caught sight of Pete, and began to laugh. "You have..." he said, gesturing at his own cheek to indicate the neutralizer that had gotten onto the younger agent's face. His amusement quickly turned to horror when Pete wiped the back of one hand across his entire face in childlike fashion, smearing the purple goo over his lips in the process. This was about to get so much worse. "Pete, no, don't–" he began, hoping to stop the inevitable, even though he knew that wasn't going to work. And sure enough, before Artie could even form the words in his mind, Pete had done it. He licked his lips.

"Whoa, neutralizer tastes like red velvet cake batter," Pete said with a grin. Artie leaped across the room but Pete managed to lick a little more from his finger, like frosting, before the elder agent could grab him and stop him.

"Yeah well, it doesn't behave like any kind of cake," Artie grumbled. "Well... maybe a certain type of brownie, but..." Artie blew out a sigh. This was going to be a long day. "Pete, listen to me, ingesting neutralizer is, is... you're going to... it causes a bad reaction."

"How bad?" Pete asked, looking suddenly nervous.

"Muscle aches, weakness, trembling, and... and you'll relive every traumatic moment in your life in auditory and visual hallucinations, until it's fully digested and broken down. You'll survive... probably... but it's going to get rough. Now, what did you eat today? It'll go faster if you haven't eaten... too much because then–"

"Today, um, couple hot dogs... Leena made french toast for breakfast.. and I scrambled the leftover egg mix and ate that too, when she was done dipping bread in it... Myka's ribs from the other night, in the fridge.. few Twizzlers, and a hot ham and cheese." Artie rolled his eyes at the list. "At least I didn't eat lunch yet?" Pete asked hopefully, causing the older man to do a double-take.

"Are you playing with artifacts that raise metabolism or something?" he asked. "If I ate... anyway. Let's get you on the couch upstairs before it gets too... too bad." He watched closely as Pete made his way to the stairs, already frowning in pain as the muscle aches began to set in. Yes, it was going to be a rough day, and probably a rough night as well. He wondered briefly if he should call the doctor, but Artie also knew that there wasn't much she could do about neutralizer ingestion. The stuff had a way of turning caustic the second time through the esophagus. No, the best thing Artie could do for the young agent now was to watch and wait.

Artie glanced at Pete several times as he cleared off an old reading chair that he hadn't used in quite some time, since Leena had buried it in a few old storage boxes he someday planned to sort through. Once he got it unearthed, he dragged it over near the sofa, setting it close enough that he could reach out and grasp Pete's hand when needed, before he scurried back downstairs to fetch the electric kettle and tea set he kept there. If ever there was a time for a good chamomile tea, this was going to be it. When Artie climbed the stairs, already he could see the neutralizer affecting the younger man. Pete moaned quietly, fear filling unseeing eyes. He was trapped in a memory.

"Pete," he said softly. "It's Artie. I'm right here. Whatever you're seeing, remember that it's already in the past. You aren't living through it. You're just having a very vivid memory."

"Feels pretty real, Artie," Pete muttered as his body began to twitch responding to some unseen force.

"Where are you, Pete?"

"I'm on your couch in the warehouse, but my mind... is stuck in the second grade, getting beat up by a fifth-grader for lunch money that I don't even have because I brought my lunch... and already ate it, because I got hungry early." Artie chuckled in spite of the seriousness. So Pete had always been the kid who could pack away an obscene amount of food without ill effects. He hoped that meant he would burn through the neutralizer effects faster than... Artie's train of thought was interrupted by Pete suddenly jerking nearly off the couch, and screaming in pain. What the... in a flash, he knew what was happening.

"Pete, quit trying to change the past. It's a memory, not time travel. You gotta roll with it." The younger man whined in frustration. Artie took his seat and rested a hand on Pete's head. It wasn't very helpful, but it was all he could do, and he remembered how much simple touch helped, when he'd gone through this himself. He continued like that for some time, using touch and murmured comments to remind Pete that he wasn't alone, that this would pass in time.

Before Artie realized how much time had passed, he heard the door open downstairs.

"Artie?" Leena's voice rang out. "Pete?" Artie moaned in frustration. Pete wouldn't want to be seen like this, even though he'd finally begun to doze lightly. Artie hurried to the stairs, meeting her halfway and blocking her view. He decided to explain that Pete was off doing chores and he'd been reading. Leena listened to the whole thing before she raised one delicate eyebrow. "I brought lunch, but Artie, what's really going on?" Leena held out the tray of sandwiches, a pointed look bordering on accusation focused on her colleague. Artie's shoulders drooped slightly. He never could keep anything from Leena.

"There was an accident this morning," he began.

"I can see that," Leena groused, looking around. "Do you know how long it's going to take me to get dried neutralizer out of that rug?"

"I'm sorry, Leena, I didn't... I'll clean it up myself, but we have a more serious problem right now." He could see her fixing to ask what the serious problem was, when suddenly a loud thump and a shriek of terror filled the room and echoed through the warehouse. Artie and Leena bolted up the stairs to find Pete on the floor, clutching one arm to his chest. "Pete, where are you?" he asked.

"I've gotten to the night Mom told me Dad died." The pain in Pete's voice was enough to break anybody's heart, Artie mused as he began helping the younger agent back onto the sofa. "I'm guessing I fell off the couch when I tried to turn and run up the stairs and into my bedroom in the memory instead of just standing there," Pete continued. Leena shot a look at Artie that could only be described as one demanding answers, and immediately.

"Yeah, Pete, you can't... changing the memory doesn't work, trust me," Artie told him before turning his attention back to the concerned woman at his side. "Like I said, we... accidental neutralizer ingestion." Leena gasped as Artie explained.

"Oh great, Leena's here?" Pete asked, then cringed. "Well, we just hopped forward to active-duty Marines... man, this is why I took up drinking in the first place," he said, drawing a shaky breath as memory after torturous memory paraded before his eyes in a display only he could see. "I don't suppose you have any–"

"No," Artie responded, with a quiet fierceness as he sat back down, laying a hand on Pete's shoulder. "You don't... you think you want to go there, but you don't. Leena's going to make you some tea, but... but you can't... I'm not going to let you invite that memory into your present life."

"I'll make tea," Leena told Artie in as much a sarcastic tone as the gentle woman could muster. "But there's no way I'm going to be able to keep this from Myka and Claudia. They're going to notice when another hour or so's passed, and you don't come back to the B&B. Claudia's already coming a little... unhinged." Leena glanced over at the pair while she waited for the water to heat. Artie sat wearily on the floor next to the sofa, his back to Pete. Pete's hand rested on his shoulder, and Artie's hand had crept up to grasp it. She smiled gently at the scene, the crabby introvert comforting the fearless thrill-seeker. They had stepped so completely out of character, and yet they were being themselves in a way that they rarely allowed themselves the luxury of experiencing.

Leena was shaken from her thoughts when the teapot's bubbling sounds changed slightly in pitch. The water had reached that perfect almost-boil, warm enough to brew tea quickly but cool enough not to burn the leaves. As she handed over two cups of steaming tea, the sound of the office door once again drifted up towards them. Artie rolled his eyes, while Leena only smiled knowingly. "They worry because they care," she reminded him, her own way of telling Artie to refrain from blowing a gasket before she slipped down the stairs. Sure enough, a moment later, two worried faces appeared in the stairwell. Artie groaned softly, even as he reached out with one hand, giving the women permission to enter.

"Artie, what's wrong with Pete?" Myka asked, never taking her eyes off her partner.

"He's fine," Artie said, beginning at the most important part of the story, rather than at the traditional beginning. "There was a bit of... of an accident this morning in the office, but Pete will be all right. It's just, um... just going to be a rough couple hours." Pete half-groaned, half-laughed at that. "Well, a rough day," Artie amended himself.

"Who drowned my files in goo?" Claudia asked, irritation evident but overshadowed by concern for her surrogate brother.

"That was part of the accident. Pete knocked over a canister of... by the time I saw what was about to happen it, it was just too late. While we were cleaning up, he got some neutralizer on his face, and, well..." Artie twisted his hands around, looking for the least-sarcastic words to explain the idiotic thing Pete had done next, when he suddenly realized, he didn't need to. Myka gasped and looked at Artie, wide-eyed.

"He ingested a little of the neutralizer," she surmised. Artie nodded in answer to Myka's statement. "And... neutralizer tastes kind of like cake batter... deceptively sweet, like antifreeze, which Pete doesn't know, because he hasn't gotten to that part of the manual yet. So he probably licked more off his fingers."

"Red velvet cake," Pete said almost exuberantly. "I have the worst craving now for red velvet cake, but I think I'm going to have flashbacks every time I eat the stuff now, after this." Artie chuckled silently at that.

"So, what does neutralizer do?" Claudia asked, wide-eyed. Myka having likened neutralizer to antifreeze didn't set too well with her.

"It makes you... see things," Pete answered, tension practically dripping from each word. Artie didn't have to look to know another memory was coming on. He turned slightly to take the teacup from the younger man's hands before it hit him at full force. Artie drew a breath and grasped Pete's hand, before he turned back toward the girls, to explain further. This part wasn't in the manual; only the warning was included.

"Neutralizer ingestion causes the person to experience his most traumatic memories as a series of auditory and visual hallucinations, while remaining more or less awake and aware of one's surroundings," Artie said, trying not to sound too serious and worry the girls any further, but there was just no way to avoid that.

"I actually can't see half the time," Pete piped up, "and the other half, it's kind of... just a blur of color. Like Timothy Leary's glasses, only way crappier."

"What do we do about it?" Myka asked. "Don't you... you know... induce vomiting with poisons?"

Artie shook his head in reply. "Neutralizer," he began, "has something of a mind of its own. If you try to do that, it turns caustic and it's, it's not good. But if we leave it be, it's relatively inert, aside from the one side effect. All I can do is sit here and wait it out, and all you can do is make yourselves scarce and give Pete some privacy. I know you want to be supportive but trust me, he doesn't need an audience."

"But shouldn't you... can't you do something?" Claudia asked, her tone clearly suggesting she expected Artie to be able to fix this, like he so often did. "We have, like, a billion artifacts here. One of them has to be able to counteract this!" Artie almost laughed at that, in spite of the seriousness.

"And what do you suggest I use to neutralize neutralizer, Claudia?" He watched as the obviousness dawned on the teen, and a slightly sheepish look crossed her face. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I really am doing everything I can for him. Now please, go before one of these memories gets... Pete needs his space. This isn't an easy thing to go through." Artie didn't want to explain to his girls that sometimes these memories could provoke the person to react physically, or that what he knew of Pete's military history suggested that it could get quite dangerous if Pete started to act out the memories. They were worried enough without that information, and were he to be perfectly honest with himself, Artie was worried enough about that for all of them. Artie watched as both Claudia and Myka eyed Pete warily, their sense of loyalty to him warring with the need to obey their boss. They would do as he asked, he knew, but he could tell this situation called for the extension of an olive branch.

"I'll contact you when he gets through the worst of it," Artie said, verbally handing over the proverbial olive branch. "Pete will need somebody to bring dinner." _There_, he thought, _that's what the girls needed_. Two calmer, slightly sunnier faces nodded their agreement as the girls left the warehouse.

"Where are you?" Artie asked again, once he was sure they were alone. He knew Pete had to be in a pretty bad place. If the way Pete's grip was nearly crushing his hand hadn't given it away, then the feelings of guilt and rage would have. Artie blew out a frustrated sigh as he waited for Pete to formulate an answer. Artie had no idea how he'd managed to forget that holding Pete's hand would forge a link between them, but forget it he had, until the feelings began flooding through his own mind. He counted himself fortunate that he didn't have to see Pete's memories. Mrs. Frederic had not been so fortunate when it had been her sitting by this same sofa so many years ago.

"I'm at war," Pete finally answered, returning Artie's mind to the present. "I just.. oh, God... Artie, I just watched..." Artie waited, but Pete didn't finish his sentence.

"I've read your file," the elder agent said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. In truth, he'd only gotten the highlights from Mrs. F, and he knew what happened because the memories were beginning to seep through their clasped hands into Artie's mind. "I know what happened to you when you were on active duty. I... I know about it already."

"Nobody knows this part," Pete shot back. "Nobody knew I... that he died because..."

Artie would have laughed if it hadn't been so serious. "Pete, I'm not screwing with you. I know you violated orders, you went to try to save your buddy, your lifelong best friend. I know you think it was your fault because you called out to him and he turned at the wrong moment, but Pete, you know that there was no way he could have seen that round coming, or gotten out of its way, no matter what. Survivor's guilt is a powerful thing, but intellectually, you know better." Artie watched as Pete's unseeing eyes flew open in shock.

"How did you know that?" Pete asked, looking thoroughly shaken and uncertain. Artie frowned for a moment, searching for words to explain, before a thought came to him. The elder agent let his own eyes drift closed as he drew from his own memory the happiest, funniest, most peaceful memories of his own life. He was about to ask Pete if the feelings changed at all, when the younger man chuckled warmly. "Okay, this is really freaking weird," he muttered.

"That's how I knew," Artie answered, finally finding words. "When a person ingests neutralizer, it, it somehow forms a link with anybody else who's ever... had that experience before. Holding your hand is allowing me to drain off some of the pain and trauma, and exchange that with my own feelings, but I'm also gaining knowledge of some of the memories themselves." Artie chuckled as Pete jerked his hand back, breaking the physical connection, then gasped at the sudden worsening of symptoms, and reached blindly for Artie's hand again.

"So..." Pete began, then fell silent. "So, this is... wow. Um... how did you–"

"A rat had somehow gotten into the pipeline," Artie answered, already having anticipated the question. "It burst as I was trying to avert... avert disaster. Next thing I knew, I was fighting just to keep from drowning. Mrs. Frederic sat by and helped me fight my demons for a day and a half."

"How did Mrs. F... you know, nevermind, I don't want to know." Artie chuckled at Pete's half-question. He, too, had wondered how the keeper of the warehouse had managed to have such an accident, but he didn't have the nerve to ask the question, either. "So are you... seeing..?" Pete began, unable to formulate the whole question.

"I haven't yet," Artie replied. "It's strengthened from vague feelings to understanding the details of the underlying memories, so I wouldn't rule it out, but.." Artie paused when Pete blew out a tremendous sigh. "Everyone has things they don't want others to know about, Pete. I understand you most likely feel violated, but you need me right now, and I understand your need for confidentiality."

"It's not that... well, it's kind of that. I don't know how I can get through this again, Artie. It nearly killed me the first time. I can't... I can't do this."

"You can and you will," Artie shot back, without even having to think about it. "I know PTSD is serious business, but you overcame it once. It'll be easier this time; you and I have done it once before already. This is a hole we both know how to climb out of, and we're not doing it alone this time."

"Both?" Pete asked, perplexed. "What have you..."

"Not right now," Artie snapped, cutting him off. "You don't need any more nightmares to contend with today."

"Okay, well at least tell me how I'm supposed to get through seeing my buddies... seeing..." Pete gave up trying to find the words when Artie squeezed his hand gently, then let go briefly. A moment later, a pill was being pressed into his hand.

"Over-the-counter sleep aid," Artie said before he was asked. "It'll lengthen the duration marginally but you need a break." Artie had been catching glimpses of the horrors Pete was viewing, and he'd noticed Pete's hands twitch and tremble, as if the hallucination was trying to suck him physically into it. He knew he had precious little time before Pete would start trying to act out, or react to, the memories. And that was a dangerous enough thing on its own, let alone in a warehouse full of artifacts. He sighed as he watched Pete turn the pill around in his fingers.

"How do I know you're you, and not some..." Artie sighed at Pete's words. Paranoia was setting in. Artie turned to lean more fully over the younger man, resting his free hand heavily on Pete's shoulder.

"Peter Lattimer," he began in a gentle but firm and unbending tone, "you know me. You know my voice, and you know my hands. You know this is more than a job, you know that I care about you and everything I do is to enable you to do your job while keeping you out of harm's way. You trust me with your life; don't let the hallucinations take that from you." Artie had more in mind to say, but before another word came, Pete had tossed the pill into his mouth and slurped the last of his tea. Artie smiled, breathing just a little easier now. The day was wearing on, and he and Pete both desperately needed a break.

* * *

Okay, I have the next couple of chapters written so I'll get them up as soon as I'm sure they're how I want them. But I'm really stalled on how to finish it (and also two in-progress chapters of Weekly Tradition that are kicking my hindquarters quite efficiently) so don't expect me to get to this too quick. I always come back to projects and finish them, but sometimes it takes a while. And the end of the year is not exactly the calm season around here!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer, spoilers, and such: Not mine, not getting paid for it; in fact, I'm putting paying customers on hold to come up with this slop! Turns out we have spoilers for half of season two in here, so if you're still catching up on the first six episodes, close this window and go catch up before your poor DVR dies of neglect. I've also borrowed some concepts from my other W13 story, that are not part of the show. In my world, Ted is a teddy bear Artie gave Claudia back before her brother disappeared, and hot cocoa is what he's discovered is her preferred comfort food, made even more comforting on the particularly bad days with whippped cream.

Also, Christie, I modeled Pete's appetite after a kid we fostered for a few years, whose personality Pete reminds me of. That was a fairly normal breakfast for the boy, and yet he stayed right in a healthy weight range somehow. Scary, yeah? KJay99, red velvet cake batter got chosen because Allison Scagliotti mentioned it being her favourite cake in some episode's commentary, and I happened to be making red velvet chocolate chip cookie dough cupcakes for an event, and trying to think of why anyone would willingly drink neutralizer, while listening to said commentary. Special thanks to MagellinaFluffQueen for reminding me to write the rest of the story in my heart, when I first was ready to quit writing at what is now halfway through chapter one. It's taken forever, but it's been worth it!

* * *

Artie didn't realize how much time had passed until he heard the gentle hiss of the door opening downstairs. Pete had dozed off, and Artie had spent the time reading some old children's lit he'd found on the shelf. It was the sort of thing he would tuck into a book cover and read on the sly, but in his years working at the warehouse, Artie had developed a soft spot for a well-written story about good-hearted characters facing wholesome, uncomplicated conflict. Artie quickly dog-eared his page and shoved the book under the sofa, before turning to see who was approaching. He smiled when he saw a mop of red hair appear in the stairwell. Claudia had brought dinner. She froze momentarily at the top of the steps.

"Wow, Artie, I don't think I've ever seen you just sitting around doing nothing," she fired off, in her usual sarcastic way.

"What's for dinner?" Artie asked, choosing to ignore the remark. It was all the invitation Claudia needed. She bounded across the room and plopped on the floor beside her mentor before opening the box Leena had sent her with.

"Tonight, we have turkey sandwiches with lots of veggies, a fruit salad, and iced tea. And Leena says she'll cook you a hot dinner later if you get hungry again. And I hope it's okay... I brought mine, too." Artie nodded in response as the girl began dishing food onto plates. "So what... I mean... is Pete doing all right?"

"He's hanging in there," Artie answered. "It's been a hard day, but he... with patience and understanding, he'll be fine."

"What have you been doing since he crashed?" Claudia asked, watching as Artie scrutinized her. She wondered if he would tell her whatever truth he was considering telling her, or if she was about to get a fish story. Artie shoveled the last of the sandwich into his mouth, then dusted his hands off and reached under the sofa.

"I've been re-reading this," he said around his dinner. "Kind of a kids' book, but there's something to be said for the simple things in life, sometimes."

"Oh, I used to love that book!" Claudia nearly shrieked with excitement. "Especially the part where she falls into the... lake, I think..? I forget... I should read it again. Can I borrow it sometime?" Artie scrutinized the teen, wishing he could figure out where she got her endless supply of energy from and how he could steal some of it, before a thought came to him. He smiled gently, then repositioned Pete's hand to rest on the shoulder that Claudia wasn't sitting next to.

"I have a better idea," Artie answered, as he opened the book to its first page.

"What, you're going to read to me like I'm six years old?" Claudia asked, one eyebrow raised. She was trying to act cool and distant, but Artie knew her well enough to see the way her eyes had lit up with interest. Her heart, underneath the typical snarky attitude, had already become attached to the idea.

"Are you going to shut up and let me?" he countered. That was all it took for Claudia to fall quiet and turn her gaze to the page. Artie smiled and drew a breath. "In 1864 Caddie Woodlawn was eleven," he began, "and as wild a little tomboy as ever ran the woods of western Wisconsin." In short order, Claudia's head found a resting place on Artie's shoulder, and even the low levels of distress from Pete had begun to dissipate in a way that hadn't happened when Artie was merely reading silently. He should have thought of this before, Artie mused as he turned yet another page.

Artie had made it through a sizable amount of the story when Pete began to stir, the drowsiness of the medication wearing off. The elder agent continued to read even as his own anxiety level increased. Maybe if he didn't change anything, then Pete would remain in this "twilight" of consciousness for a while longer. His hope evaporated when suddenly Claudia jerked away from Artie and sat straight up, wide-eyed, while Pete came instantly awake as he jumped, nearly sending himself over the back of the sofa.

"What just happened?" Artie nearly shouted in alarm, watching his two companions freak out.

"I'm sorry," Pete began to talk over his boss, "I didn't mean to... oh my gosh, how do you... I mean – I'm sorry, Claudia!" Artie's eyes fluttered closed as he realized what must have happened to make Pete react like this.

"Pete, did you touch Claudia?"

"Yeah I just got a flood of..." Pete replied, looking as sheepish as he could manage. "But at least I can see better now."

"Good, good, that means it's wearing – you got some of Claudia's memories?" Artie asked. Pete nodded.

"And I evidently got some of Pete's," Claudia added, "since I now remember a fireman's funeral that I know I didn't attend."

"Yeah," Pete said, "that was my dad's funeral. Sorry about that."

"No worries, man," Claudia answered quickly, discomfort evident in her eyes. "But, um... my memories?" Artie sighed harshly as he grasped Pete's hand again, catching a flood of negative feelings in the process.

"The other common side-effect of neutralizer ingestion is that people who've been exposed to it, not only do you experience your most traumatic memories as hallucinations, but when you come into physical contact with other ingestion victims it... well, sometimes..."

"You share memories and feelings," Pete supplied.

"Yeah, that would have been nice to know before now," Claudia muttered.

"Well until just now, I didn't know you'd ingested neutralizer. When did that happen?" Pete asked the increasingly-agitated teen. Artie suddenly shot Claudia a stern look, realizing she'd never mentioned any sort of accident like this.

"I um, I kind of got hit in the face once when I was doing maintenance in the gooery," she answered. "I had to bleed some off at the secondary valve and I guess the system was under more pressure than I expected. Had wicked awful nightmares that night, but I didn't... I didn't know there was any kind of side effect, so I didn't think too much of it. I just thought, you know... not that I have... ah, hell."

"We know you have nightmares," Pete said softly, gently, reaching out toward his young friend before realizing that might be a dumb idea and jerking his hand back. Claudia flushed at the information. She knew that she had to have woken others up before, with her occasional screams in the night, but it was the first time they didn't all just politely pretend it away. "It's okay, Claudia. We all... part of the reason I think we're all good at this job, why our life paths have led us to the warehouse, is because we all have our issues. And after what I just saw, I'd be worried about you if you didn't have nightmares. But, Artie, why was it so vivid? I'm not seeing any horrors from your past."

"Claudia is young and innocent," Artie explained, "if you can truly call anybody innocent, in this screwed-up world. She hasn't had nearly as many years as I have – not one crack about my age – to perfect the art of suppressing memories and pretending they don't exist. So you caught the full force of what... whatever demons lurk in her past. And she had no defenses against your memories, either, for that same reason." Artie watched with concern as his young assistant pushed herself off the floor and started to leave.

"I just... I need to go wash my face, and get a drink, "Claudia said before he got the chance to ask. "I'll be back, if that's okay." Artie nodded his approval, and she disappeared.

"Artie," Pete said in a soft, urgent tone after several moments of thoughtful silence. "I think... I'm... okay, we all know Claudia's past sucked, but she never reported the foster parent who raped her, she just self-destructed and got herself moved..." Artie put a hand up, stopping Pete.

"That, and whatever other information you acquired today, is Claudia's personal information to decide if and when she wants to share," Artie said sternly, trying to ignore the fact that what he really wanted to do was grill Pete and Claudia both for more information, and then storm off on a homicidal quest.

"But as a federal agent, I've got to report it because the guy may still have contact with children, and... how am I going to explain how I got the information? Artie, I didn't _want_ this secret," Pete whined.

"I didn't want you to have it, either," a voice said from the doorway, causing both men to jump slightly. Claudia's eyes were dark and almost unreadable as she inched toward the stairs, and in a flash Artie realized she was about to run away. Almost before she turned to run down the stairs, Artie had Pete's ear pinched between his fingers, dragging the now-whining younger man along as they both ran after her.

"Get in," Artie growled as he practically threw Pete at the passenger door of his car. The words weren't needed; Pete was already scrambling to jump in as they both watched Claudia's car create a trail of dust against a brilliant summer sunset, in the race to get away. Artie thought it looked like she might be heading for the B&B, but by the time the pair arrived, there was no sign of Claudia. He blew out a frustrated sigh and stormed up to the house.

"Where's Claudia?" he snapped at Leena, who had the misfortune of being the first person Artie saw.

"She came and left, not two minutes ago," Leena replied, looking just a tad shaken. "She scooped up some food and a blanket and dumped her farnsworth and her phone, and just... Artie, is she okay?"

"Watch Pete while I go look for her. Make sure he doesn't do anything else stupid... tie him up and lock him in the closet if need be." Artie didn't even wait for a response before he stormed back out, passing Pete in the driveway. "You, inside, now!" he barked as he dove for the car. Food and a blanket... he felt a little relieved to hear Leena's itemization of the things she grabbed. Food and a blanket meant she probably wasn't planning to get on the next plane to Switzerland, again. Claudia wasn't into the desert-like terrain around the warehouse. That probably meant she'd gone to the park or the cemetery in town, to hide. The cemetery was more likely, but the park worried Artie more because, even with the durational spectrometer in his bag, it would be harder to search in the darkness of night that was quickly descending upon the landscape.

Artie hurried toward the park, scanning the parking area and surrounding roads for her car. He wasn't quite ready to give up when he found nothing near the park, but he moved on towards the cemetery anyway, figuring he could track her more easily if he began at her car. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a beat-up El Camino parked by the locked front gate of the cemetery, and another sigh of relief when he watched the ghostly image of his young apprentice squirming her way between the wrought iron bars and jogging toward the old cemetery, where the headstones stand up in classic creepy-graveyard fashion, unlike modern flat grave markers. He worked as quietly as possible, picking the gate's lock and catching up to her, but still when he was a few feet away, she heard him and tried to take off running again. Entirely fed up at this point, Artie dove for her as if tackling a common criminal, bringing them both to the ground like a sack of potatoes as he tried to dodge her defensive punches.

"Claudia, stop!" Artie commanded fiercely, relying on her historic tendency to shrink back when he shouted, to put a stop to her wild attempt at escape. He hadn't counted on the violent shudder that shook her as the ferocity bled out of her fight... nor the way she continued more gently and slowly to pry at his hands in desperation. He'd read her files, he knew her past in cold, detached terms much like the one Pete had used just a little bit ago. He knew the clinical terms, but what had _happened_ to her, what had Pete seen that was worth this much upset? And far more importantly, what was he supposed to do about it now? Suddenly, the problems of the afternoon seemed so faraway, and so easy compared to the mess Pete had managed to make with one simple sentence. He needed to see her eyes, to even begin hoping to untangle this one. Taking a risk, Artie loosened his grip, keeping one hand around Claudia's left wrist as he used the other to shove himself up into a sitting position. Predictably, she tried to use the opportunity to attempt another escape, and he was able to use her own momentum to turn her to face him as he tugged her arm back, causing her to sit heavily back on the ground between two headstones.

"Sweetheart, breathe, breathe," Artie said as soon as he saw the indentation near her collarbone, the signal that her gasps weren't just from the frantic exertion. Either she was having an asthma attack or something had triggered a full-blown panic attack, and Artie knew he could safely discard the first possibility. He quietly began talking her through regaining control of respiration, waiting for her eyes to stop darting around avoiding his gaze before he coaxed her into playing the mirror game. It was a simple game she'd played with Joshua when she was little, a game where the two would hold their hands up, palms not quite touching, and she would become Joshua's reflection, following his movements. Joshua had used the game to calm his kid sister's very grown-up anxiety levels, by encouraging her to simply focus on him while they talked. Artie had only used the tactic once himself, after a particularly violent nightmare... probably the night she'd experienced neutralizer ingestion, he realized as he gazed around the graveyard. It wasn't long before Artie observed that his surrogate daughter was in control of the anxiety enough to carry on a conversation... now if only he had the foggiest idea about what to say.

"I never wanted anybody to find out about... that stuff. Especially you," Claudia said flatly, without the slightest intonation as she continued to follow his hands. Artie blinked. Claudia blinked in response, still mirroring his moves. Well, then. He contemplated her words for a moment, hunting for the root from which this had sprung.

"Your value to me cannot be changed, for better or worse, by the actions of others," he finally replied, entirely unsure he'd found the right words until he saw her eyes mist over, and her body tip forward. Suddenly realizing what was about to happen, he reached out to wrap his arms around her as she fell heavily against his chest. She rested quietly against him, which felt strange to him since it seemed like the kind of situation that might provoke at least some tears. But his Claudia almost never cried, so it wasn't terribly surprising that she simply curled up into his embrace. Artie rested his chin on her head for a little bit, thinking about what to do next. The sun had set, and it was getting quite dark, and more than a little chilly. He had a jacket on, but Claudia was still in the same short-sleeved top that she'd worn to town in the warmth of the afternoon. With one hand he grabbed the blanket she'd taken from her bedroom, and pulled it over the both of them as he leaned on a nearby tombstone.

"Claudia," he began again, "I've read your file. I know how many placements you went through, and I know child abuse figures. It is a statistical impossibility for a child to go through that many homes, without encountering at least one adult who was up to no good. I hoped I was wrong, but I have always assumed that abuse was part of your past. The people who have hurt you, they don't control how important and how wanted you are by your team and they don't have any control over how much I love you." Artie smiled when he felt Claudia nodding against him.

"I'm tired of keeping secrets from you," she muttered. Fear had taken its toll; she sounded weary.

"If you want to tell me what happened, you can. Every last detail, even. But, can we go home and have this conversation? I feel a little strange discussing it on top of... John Mackey," he said as he twisted around to read the grave marker they were leaning against. Claudia shook her head violently in response. "Why don't you want to go home? You're really that angry with Pete?"

"Artie... think about it. He got the memory of... he _saw_ that. How am I supposed to even look him in the eye ever again?" Claudia explained. Artie closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He hadn't even thought of that. Hell, it was bad enough to know what happened without seeing it. It must have been sheer agony for Pete, Artie finally realized, to see what had happened to the girl he'd come to look at as his little sister. No wonder he'd told Artie about it without even thinking about whether or not it was okay to share Claudia's secrets.

"Claudia," he began, then stopped, unsure of what to say next. The pair simply sat quietly for several minutes while he tried to figure out what he could say that would make this disaster somehow all better... if that was even possible. "You know Pete protects you like a brother," he finally said. Claudia nodded in reply. "Trust me, sweetie, the only reason he hasn't, hasn't killed the guy yet is because Pete prefers to be on the outside of the prison wall." Claudia chuckled at that.

"You really think Pete would kill Rick for me?" she asked.

"No," Artie answered after a moment's thought. "I think he would be willing, but he would... I would beat him to it." His sheepish answer only made her chuckle again. Artie wondered how to get at the heart of Claudia's upset. He knew she was horrified that Pete had seen one of the worst moments of her life, but underneath it all, he saw her trying to claim ownership of the blame for what she'd endured. But he was at a loss as to how to fix it, so he simply fell quiet.

"Yeah, I know I'm being irrational," Claudia answered after a long moment. "I'll get over it after a while... right?"

"It's perfectly reasonable to be upset about it," Artie finally said, getting a nod from his young companion. "And yes, you two will maybe talk it over, and you'll both get over it in time. Can we go home to finish this conversation now, maybe?" Claudia was silent again, and Artie had almost resigned himself to a couple more hours of sitting in the cemetery in the dark, when she finally spoke up in a tone so low it was almost a whisper.

"Can you call Leena and see if we have any whipped cream at home?" Claudia asked. Artie's eyes closed briefly at that. He wasn't really sure he wanted to hear what had happened to his precious little girl, especially if it was so bad that it required cocoa with whipped cream, but he'd dedicated himself to taking care of this team of odd, yet well-fitting members. He put on a gentle smile as he fished in his pocket for Claudia's phone, using it to call Leena. She would want to know he'd found their young friend, anyhow.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers, spoilers, and such: Still not mine. How sad. I'm really not sure anymore because it's all running together in my head, but given when I started work on this, I'd say the first half of season two is fair game. Thanks to MagellinaFluffQueen for the prompt. It's been a lot of fun! And many, **many**, _**many**_ thanks to KJay99 for the beta work on this. Seriously, you people have no idea how many bad ideas and un-italicized direct thoughts you've been saved from. But any errors that may have been missed, are entirely my fault... I always manage to miss a correction or two! Sorry it took me so long to finish this final chapter. I misplaced my inspiration for a while there.

* * *

When Artie got Claudia home, they found the rest of the household lounging in the family room in their pajamas, watching a movie. By the stack of discs sitting on the chair next to the television, Artie surmised that their plan was to watch movies until they dropped from sheer exhaustion. Leena stepped away briefly to finish preparing two mugs that Artie supposed must have cocoa in them, but all he saw was towers of whipped cream as he carried the mugs up the stairs. Claudia had already gone up, having been told to go settle wherever she felt most comfortable, and Artie found her in her bedroom, seated at her desk, tinkering with one of a few repair projects she'd been meaning to get to. She nodded in acknowledgment when he placed her mug before her. Artie stood for a moment, then sat down on her bed.

"So," Claudia began as soon as the rustling sounds quieted, "what did my files say about me?" Artie sighed. Of course she would want to start there.

"That you were difficult to place... you didn't like anyone or anything. They suspected you'd been abused before entering the system, though it didn't... didn't say why. I got the distinct impression that they thought you were supposed to just bounce back from the loss of your entire family after a couple of days, and when you didn't, they just... well, I don't know. One worker did make mention that you spoke of being abused in one group home, by the older kids, but there wasn't much in the way of information there. She said you talked about it like it was ancient history, even though it had only been six months... though I guess to a fourteen-year-old, six months is ancient history. She was the only one who seemed to understand that your anti-social nature was a defense, so you wouldn't have to go through that kind of loss again. Hard to get hurt again when you don't let people into your life in the first place. One of them wrote a note that one family, the wife was all too glad to see you go, but the husband was really broken up about it. I, um... didn't feel so great about that one. And that's about it. I can show it to you sometime, if you really want; it's your files, your right to do what you want with them. But it's pretty harsh, and I don't... if it were my decision to make, I would not let you see it." Artie fell silent, waiting to see where she would go next. Claudia bobbed her head thoughtfully as she worked, dismantling this, and rewiring that.

"Probably someday, I'll read it," she said simply. Artie wasn't surprised; anyone would be curious, but he was more than a little relieved that she didn't want him to get the box of papers right now – or anytime soon, from the sound of it. He let the silence hang between them for a few more minutes before deciding to take action, moving to stand next to her, one hand clutching his mug of towering whipped cream, the other hand resting on her shoulder. Claudia looked up at her mentor with a small smile and leaned against him for a moment before she turned back to her busywork.

Slowly, in between muttering at her projects, the story of her past began to unfold. Claudia talked about each home she remembered, blending her memories of the good, the bad, and the flat-out enraging. Artie was surprised at how many good memories she had. She'd been in the care of some truly wonderful people over the years, people who he wished he could at least send a thank-you note to. And even in some of the bad situations, there were some good things. As the stories continued to flow, he came to understand more and more why the risk of punishment or injury never caused the fearless teen to rethink her actions. When you've been beaten half-unconscious, totally ignored, and starved, extra chores aren't bad enough to avoid. No wonder she responded so much better to love and affection, he mused, even as he smoldered with silent rage at some of the people who had passed through her life.

Claudia fell quiet for several minutes, and Artie wondered if she was finished. He had a feeling he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, though, and sure enough, she looked up at him after a few minutes and asked to relocate to her bed. He was still settling against the headboard when he suddenly found himself with an armful of trembling teen. Artie shifted to cradle Claudia gently, much the way he'd once seen Joshua hold her when she'd come inside from their apartment complex's courtyard with bloody knees. She'd been saving the hardest part for last, he realized as he watched her hand stretch out to grab Ted from her nightstand. The teddy bear found his way through the tangle of limbs to rest on Claudia's chest, her chin pressed against his head.

Artie watched fear, shame, and anger all fight for dominance in her eyes as she told the story of the memory Pete had been subjected to. No wonder Pete had been so worried, Artie thought as the story came out, piece by torturous piece. The story she shared was worse than he could have imagined... not that he ever tried to imagine it, nor that it was particularly terrible. But the mere thought of what had happened on what should have been his watch, that's what made it so unimaginable to him.

Artie knew that his own eyes were mirroring the fear and horror he saw in hers as she shared her deepest, darkest secret for the first time. Each detail of the eight months she'd lived with her abuser, each little piece of the puzzle came together to form a clear picture of the shattered heart that Artie knew was hiding behind Claudia's brash nature, the heart he'd spent these last two years trying to reach and mend. It felt like his own heart was laying on the floor in shreds as she opened up about the one thing that made her feel unworthy of Artie's love and acceptance, and drove her to work so hard to earn the very thing that he gave freely just because she existed.

_How could one simple canister of neutralizer, one split-second lapse in attention, cause this day to get so completely screwed up_, Artie wondered as he watched fear swimming laps in the unshed tears in Claudia's eyes. The impending tears didn't surprise him, of course. What surprised him was the realization that those first few tears to land on his shirt were his own. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed that he couldn't keep it together when his teenage companion was still somewhat calm and collected. But before he could decide, there was a flurry of motion and suddenly the girl who'd been resting calmly against him was now hanging on for dear life, her face pressed against his shoulder, her whole body shaking with sobs. It was as if his honest reaction to her story had given her permission to experience her own emotions. The dam had finally burst.

Artie breathed a quiet sigh, grudgingly allowing himself to cry. It was probably the first time in twenty years that he'd let himself be this emotional without first retreating to the safety of his shower, the one place nobody would catch him. He hated to have to live through these uncomfortable minutes and would give almost anything for the luxury of packing all this junk away and never looking at it again. But if he was going to do what was best for Claudia, he saw no other option than to simply forge ahead, like it or not. It figured, he thought wryly, that this teen who had single-handedly destroyed his plan to live an aloof, solitary life, would just as easily sabotage his detached and pragmatic approach to dealing with the odd family that he'd ended up with. _Claudia really should have come with a warning label,_ he mused as he shrugged one arm out of the jacket that had begun to interfere with his ability to wrap his arms around her tightly enough to soothe her.

Claudia settled back down surprisingly quickly within the confines of Artie's strong embrace, and by the time Pete's head poked into the open doorway, she was simply leaning quietly against her mentor in the nest of blankets and pillows with Artie's arms loosely encircling both her and the teddy bear she was holding.

"Can I come in?" Pete asked timidly. "I can wait if it's a bad time, but I'm safe now, at least... Leena declared me neutralizer-free." Artie watched as Claudia glanced up at him, as if she was seeking his permission to let Pete interrupt the deeply personal time of bonding she and Artie were still basking in.

"Up to you, kiddo," he muttered in reply to her unspoken question. Claudia tossed her head in a beckoning gesture, and Pete smiled as he crossed the small room to sit on the bed.

"I'm sorry," Pete said, rushing right into his next thought before Claudia had a chance to react. "I was worried and I didn't know how to help you and I told Artie because he'd know what to do but I should have asked you first... I violated your privacy, and I'm sorry."

"Eh, your brain was being scrambled by the neutralizer," Claudia replied with a small grin, her way of accepting his apology. "Besides," she continued as she tugged Artie's hands into a slightly more snug embrace around herself, "you're probably supposed to tell the kid's dad when you find out about bad stuff like that." Artie chuckled uncertainly at Claudia's reference to the conversation that had guided the growth of their relationship over the past six months. He still felt entirely unworthy of this role in his subordinates' lives, and yet this family that the universe had bestowed upon him was a prized gift that he jealously guarded.

"Next time you drink neutralizer and mistakenly uncover deep, dark secrets that Artie needs to know, though," Claudia continued, "just let me know before you tell him, okay?" Pete chuckled and nodded at his young friend's request, relieved that things hadn't gone as horribly as they could have. He knew he was right, that Artie needed to be made aware, but Claudia had a point. She deserved the opportunity to know what Pete had seen, and what he was going to do with the information. Which reminded Pete...

"I didn't really... see anything, Claudia," Pete began to explain. "You were in a darkened room and I just saw him come into the room and then nothing more visually. I'm only assuming it was the foster father, just because he seemed kind of tall." Pete paused and Claudia nodded in answer to his assumption. "Yeah, I kind of figured. You knew what was going to happen, but you weren't really... it was almost like you didn't know the words to describe it, or didn't want to make it real by putting words to it. It was a lot of anger and fear and..." Pete paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "And you were thinking about how this was worse than the place where the other kids had done the same things, and you were plotting how you could get yourself moved from the home faster, and you shouldn't have had to go through that, Claudia. You deserved a home with real parents who love you and other kids who weren't always plotting how to hurt you... maybe they'd tease you some, but not... you are worthy of far more than the crappy deal you got. I hope you realize that." Claudia nodded in thought for a moment.

"I got that family," she said quietly. "It just took a little longer. And I had to take matters into my own hands with the hacking and the kidnapping," she added with a grin, getting smiles from both Pete and Artie.

"Speaking of family, the girls and I were planning to lay in front of the TV downstairs and watch movies till we fall asleep," Pete said. "Either of you want to join?" Claudia glanced up at Artie as if she was looking for permission to watch movies. Artie's brow furrowed in confusion, and then it hit him. Today's fiasco had left her with a bit of separation anxiety. She wanted to be with Artie more than she wanted to join the rest of the family. Artie blew out the breath of air he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Sure, I'm game," he answered, even though sleeping on the rug was about the last thing on Artie's to-do list. He was fairly sure he was too old for this, and if he wasn't totally convinced now, his back would convince him in the morning. But Artie had other, substantially more important things on his mind right now... other things with red hair and cold hands, who needed his attention far more than his aging spine did right now.

* * *

Artie watched the girls parade into the kitchen to bake a little more of Leena's cookie dough, and pop more popcorn, waiting until they were busy at work before he turned his focus to Pete.

"How are you holding up?" Artie asked once the two were alone. Pete shrugged in reply.

"Wound up. Stressed. Not really expecting to sleep much."

"That why we're crashing in the living room?" Artie raised an eyebrow at Pete's suddenly sheepish discomfort. "What, what's bothering you?"

"Not exactly looking forward to the kind of nightmares I used to have," Pete answered.

"Worried about nightmares?" Artie asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Pete nodded. "I used to dream about... well, Jeremiah's last moment of life. Sometimes I'd dream about him coming back to life, all decomposed and stuff, and blaming me for his death. Stuff like that."

Artie peered at Pete, just a little bit horrified at the younger man's description of his dreams. No wonder the kid had turned to drinking. "So wake me up; we'll talk... or just put another movie on. Either way." He frowned, noticing a very definite lack of relief on Pete's features at his offer. "What aren't you telling me, Pete?"

"I might be kind of... afraid it's going to haunt me for days," Pete muttered, flushing with embarrassment at the admission. He saw the glimmer of amusement in Artie's eyes, just before he ducked his head in shame, but the laughter he expected never came.

"So you can wake me up tomorrow night... and the one after that, too, if you need," Artie said. Pete's eyes snapped back up to meet Artie's gaze. No, he wasn't poking fun, Pete realized. And it wasn't an offer or a question. Artie had made a decision and he clearly felt the matter was settled. Artie did allow his amusement to seep out as a gentle chuckle when he took in Pete's shocked expression. "I told you earlier, you're not going to be left to your own devices to climb out of that hole a second time."

"You never told me about your past," Pete said, suddenly remembering the earlier conversation. Artie nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm not particularly eager to delve into that tonight. But.. well, a Russian Jewish family with a strong sense of right and wrong, did not... did not fare well in the Soviet Union during... later. We can get into it later." Artie fell quiet as he let his head tilt forward, allowing his weariness to show. The day had taken more of a toll on him than he cared to admit, but while the two men were alone he felt able to let his guard down. Claudia needed her big, bad Papa Bear; Pete only needed authentic friendship. "You weren't the only one who had a rough day," Artie confessed. "I was fighting hard not to let my memories get to you, but they... and then Claudia... oy. She told me what happened to her. It wasn't as bad as I'd made it out to be in my mind, but..." he said, gesturing with one hand as if he could reach out and grasp the words that he couldn't quite make himself say.

"The fact that it happened to our Claudia is probably the worst part to me, too. I'm really sorry," Pete muttered. "This was all my fault." He was just a tad surprised when Artie nodded his agreement.

"Apology accepted," the elder man replied. "It's going to take a little time, and some work, but we'll get through this. She needed to face and deal with her past anyway... you both do."

"Yeah, and we're not the only ones," Pete said, shooting a knowing look at Artie. Artie merely smiled slightly in response. It wasn't the right time yet, but Pete knew by the look in his eyes that one day soon, they'd sit down and have those conversations. But right now... now it was time to relax and simply be, Pete thought as the girls returned with more goodies.

"Ooh, are those snickerdoodles?" Pete asked Claudia, reaching his hands toward the plate she carried. She grinned at him and settled in the almost-too-small space between Pete and Artie as they both reached for a cookie. Having no interest real in the movie that was playing, Artie watched her instead, taking in the pain in her eyes, but also the confidence that had already begun to re-grow, and the sense of security she clearly felt, nestled between the two protective men in her life. Claudia noticed him watching, and leaned just slightly against his shoulder as she smiled up at him before turning her attention back to the movie.

* * *

And there you have it. Thanks for reading, and thank you for all your kind reviews.


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